“Okay,” I agree, my eyes landing on the waitress’s name tag. “Thank you, Ruth.”
“Wonderful,” she sing-songs, grabbing two menus and then leading us to a booth where we slide in across from one another. “Two cups of coffee?”
“Please,” I say, perusing the menu. “Actually, I think I’ll try a gingerbread latte. That sounds good.”
“I’ll take one of those too.”
My eyes find Everett’s and narrow.
“Great, I’ll be right back.” She smiles at us both before heading toward the kitchen.
“A gingerbread latte?” I ask.
“When in Rome, right?”
“That’s rich coming from Scrooge.”
“Hey, just because I don’t love Christmas doesn’t mean I don’t like the drinks associated with it. I don’t know if you heard, but I was crowned the king of the Sugarplum Park Christmas Extravaganza a few moments ago, so I have to play the part, right?”
I roll my eyes and then drop them back to my menu. “I guess so.”
Ruth returns and sets the two drinks on the table. They’re both topped with a heaping serving of whipped cream, shaved nutmeg, and a tiny gingerbread cookie. His mug is shaped like some type of Christmas soldier, and mine is pink with the wordsSon Of A Nutcrackerprinted across the front in different shades of green. “Do you know what you want to eat, or do you need another minute?” she asks.
“Another minute, please,” I say.
Ruth nods and walks away.
Picking up the mugs, we both take a sip of our drinks. Ginger and molasses swirl across my tongue. It tastes like it was made by one of Santa’s elves, and honestly, the way our time here is going, I wouldn’t be surprised if we found out it had been.
Glancing up at Everett, I giggle at the white cream now covering his mustache.
“What?”
“You have a little whipped cream...” Standing slightly, I lean over the table and wipe my thumb across his lips, making him freeze under my touch.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” I stammer, sitting down and wiping my fingers clean with a paper napkin. “You’re perfectly capable of wiping your own face.”
“It’s okay.” He chuckles. “I liked it.”
There’s a beat of silence, and my eyes land back on my menu.
“Okay, you two,” Ruth chimes, walking back up to the table. “What can we get you?”
“I’ll have the eggnog French toast with a side of bacon.”
Ruth jots down my order and then looks at Everett.
“Two eggs over easy, bacon, and French toast.”
“Eggnog or plain?” Ruth asks.
“Surprise me.” He wiggles his eyebrows, laying on the charm.
She giggles, her cheeks turning a deep shade of pink. “Anything else?”
“Nope,” I say. “That’s all for now.”
She grabs our menus and walks away from our table. Crossing my arms, my gaze lands back on Everett.
